


Whispers to be Heard

by QuibblyQuiver



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, Identity Issues, Insecurity, More of a she-changed-things-without-knowing, Not A Fix-It, Ripple-effect, Self Confidence Issues, Then I’ll make a sequel, This will go up to the Battle of Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:21:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23318284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuibblyQuiver/pseuds/QuibblyQuiver
Summary: When a girl with a bleeding heart decides to help someone, it creates a ripple-effect that was unprecedented and certainly unexpected.Nova Clarence (De Zwarte, but she knew it was hard to pronounce for most so she usually only introduces herself with her mother’s surname). Eleven years of age, and about to embark on her studies to be a witch. When she is sent to Hogwarts instead of Beauxbatons, where her older brother is, she finds herself struggling to adapt and adjust to life at Hogwarts. Nova has changed since she was younger, but her heart hasn’t changed and that may lead to her being involved in dangerous things she is ignorant of. Will it be worth it?Follow Nova through her years at Hogwarts and all the crazy things that happen there.
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Original Female Character(s), Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Kudos: 17





	Whispers to be Heard

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think at the end!  
> Enjoy. ;D

At 10-nearly-eleven years old, Nova Clarence had seen most of the world than many would ever see. So far she’d lived in four different countries and two different continents, and she was about to move to another. The reason for all this is that her mother worked with public health systems in the Muggle world and her father’s Healer status resulted in Nova being dragged all over the world. 

Like anything else, there were good and bad parts of seeing so much so young. Nova experienced so many different cultures and traditions her head would sometimes swim with the richness and beauty of it all. She’d made friends of all kinds and seen landscapes of all types. Nova had been immersed in different languages and had picked a few of them up at school along the way. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t all good. Nova had seen some of the poorest people with her own eyes due to her parents’ line of work. She had been forced to leave her friends again and again and again and start over from scratch multiple times. When she was younger, it hadn’t been too difficult. Nova had been a wild, rambunctious child that drew people in with her kindness and fiercely protective spirit. With age and awareness, however, came an inexplicable wave of self doubt and awkwardness. Gone were the days of a loud and vocal child who appeared fearless, kind and approachable. With the most recent move - this time to the UK, from Peru - Nova became quiet, withdrawn and antisocial. She retained her bleeding heart and strong character, but it was rarely seen, and seen only by those closest to her or when she got carried away by passion.

This is the story of a girl who unwittingly changes the lives of many by deciding to help only one.

————————

Nova sighed tiredly as she shook off the nauseating effects of an international port key. Despite her frighteningly vivid imagination and the fear that it inflicted when she was in an airplane far up in the air, Nova still preferred it to the unnatural feeling of magical travel. 

Monelle Clarence, her mother, was muggleborn and had thus insisted Nova be well-connected and adapted to the muggle world. Despite this, and having been sent to a muggle school up till now, Nova was still brought up with pureblooded traditions and etiquette. Nothing extreme like the Sacred Twenty-Eight of the UK, but Nova did have a more formal manner of speech, ate with her mouth closed and with small, delicate bites, and walked around with a straight back. How this was considered pureblooded etiquette when her mother had also had such ‘education’ in her upbringing, Nova did not know. She was aware that some purebloods had the impression that muggles were barbaric and dirty, but Nova had met muggles far more eloquent and educated than those purebloods. Nova had decided not to pay attention to those silly preconceptions long ago. 

Nova was a half-blood. Her father was pureblooded and he had nothing to say about blood (other than it was irrelevant), which was clear in how he had married a muggleborn and loved her dearly. Her father had learned to adapt to the muggle world quickly and without fuss even before he’d met Nova’s mother. Both of her parents were academics, and as a result Nova had grown up having intensely complicated discussions around the dinner table. 

Now, Nova sat silently (which was unusual, when around family) at a new, unfamiliar dining table that would eventually become familiar and associated with ‘home’. Only it wouldn’t. A letter had just been delivered by an owl and sat on the kitchen table. With it a looming cloud of darkness hung over Nova’s shoulders like dead weight. 

Monelle examined her daughter carefully. “Everything ok?” She asked.

Nova’s face twisted distastefully as she debated whether to bring up the topic one final time. “...It’s just - do I really  _ have to  _ go to Hogwarts? Why can’t I go to Beauxbatons?” Nova’s brother, two years her senior, had been sent to Beauxbatons during their stay in Peru when the time had come for his magical education to begin. He would’ve gone to the local magical school however their parents knew that their contract would be ending and had just interviewed for jobs in Europe. 

Nova regretted the words the moment they came out of her mouth. Immediately the air soured and her parents shared an irritated, exhausted look. 

This time her father answered. “We’ve already told you. You’ll be going to Hogwarts. It’s for the best.”

“But  _ why _ ? Why do I have to be  _ alone _ ?” Nova retaliated, feeling the crippling, icy fear of loneliness creeping up her spine. She repressed a shudder.

Monelle sighed explosively and her father’s face darkened. “It’s for your own good. And you won’t be alone, you can always owl us. We’ll still be seeing each other during the holidays.” Her father’s tone left no room for discussion, and Nova knew then that she had no choice. A lump rose in her throat and her eyes began to sting but she ruthlessly suppressed it.  _ Don’t be pathetic,  _ Nova scolded herself.

“Besides,” her father continued, “Hogwarts is supposed to be one of the top magical schools in Europe. You’re lucky you managed to get in considering your name hasn’t been put down since birth.”

_ Yes,  _ Nova thought bitterly.  _ Lucky that I’ll be completely alone and with no one to trust. I don’t even know anything about this country, much less the people who live here! _

————————

The next day her father took her to Diagon Alley to buy her supplies. The first stop was Gringotts.

After a mind-numbingly long wait, they finally attended. “Good afternoon,” Nova’s father said to the Goblin in front of them. “I would like to withdraw money from my vault.”

The Goblin sneered at her father, ignoring her completely. Nova wasn’t offended. “Name and vault key, please.”

“Ivar De Zwarte.” Her father said, and handed an intricately designed key to the Goblin. 

The Goblin examined the key momentarily before stating, “Come with me, Mr De Zwarte.”

They were lead through winding hallways that closely resembled a maze - probably to confuse anyone trying to escape or something - until they reached what appeared to be another part of the wall but was actually a door. 

Nova watched as her father discussed with the Goblin on the other side of the desk in the room - Drakaxe, or something. Nova couldn’t quite pronounce the name in Gobbledegook (what a derogatory thing to call a language), but to her surprise, her father occasionally garbled out something in Gobbledegook. She only managed to catch the occasional words that were said in English, such she surmised that it had something to do with the account not having been used for a while and such things. Her father hadn’t been here since she was young.

After a tedious hour, they finally left Gringotts with some money and the issues sorted. Nova was curious, as always, and started to prod at what was discussed after they left the towering doors of the bank. 

“Was something wrong? Why did they have to speak with you?” Nova asked curiously. Her father glanced down at her before looking at the list and leading her to Flourish and Blotts to buy her school books.

“Somewhere in our family tree, a Black married our family. This is more common that you would think, with the inbreeding going on - “ Johan grimaced for a split second. “ - and the occasional illegitimate child, but what was different about this Black is that they had enough sanity left in them to marry someone from the continent and try to...diversify their genes. Our Black ancestor was illegitimate, I think, because they changed their name - just translated it to Dutch, really - when they left the UK and settled down in Belgium. Perhaps it was a way to mask their identity a bit, perhaps it wasn’t. We don’t know. But the name stuck.” 

Her father sighed briefly before continuing. “In any case, what happened back in Gringotts is that since it's been so long since I‘d been to the bank, they wanted to confirm my identity as we have more money accumulating due to investments I made a while ago and it makes the Goblins more air-tight on security.”

Nova was shocked. She knew about the Black-madness and their dark history. It was weird to know that she was related to such a family, no matter how distant, and she wasn’t quite sure what to think about it. Honestly, she shouldn’t have been so surprised considering how all purebloods had some link to each other somewhere, but the thought of it still made her uncomfortable. Thank god her mother was muggleborn. Is that a horrible thing to think?

Ivar chuckled lightly, sensing her train of thought. “Don’t worry too much about it. It’s so far back that it barely has any effect. Trust me, I did my research.” He added dryly. Nova laughed at that last comment. 

“Why don’t we focus on getting your books? If there are some not on the list that sound interesting, I might just get them for you.”

“ _ Really _ ?! Alright!” Nova grinned triumphantly. Magic was so interesting to read about, she’d take as many books as he’d allow. “What are you waiting for? Let’s  _ go _ !”

————————

It was a bit tiring to walk around the whole day to buy supplies, especially when Nova was itching to start reading her freshly-bought books. By three they’d finally bought everything on the list with the exception of her wand. 

Diagon Alley wasn’t as packed as it would be in July and August, since Nova’s 

Birthday was in March and they’d received her letter then. It was now April, and Nova was glad she wouldn’t have to wait in line to get her wand. She was pretty sure her father was torturing her, though, because they stopped at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour before getting her stick. 

Actually, no. He wasn’t torturing her. This ice cream was  _ amazing _ .

They stepped into Ollivander with a sneeze, the dust tickling their nose. The bell attached to the door rang and echoed eerily. Nova heard a thump followed by clothes rustling before a frazzled old man appeared. His milky eyes stared at Nova with a discomfiting intensity and a knowing glint.

“Ah, Nova Clarence De Zwarte, I wasn’t sure you’d come.” Ollivander said without blinking since the moment he’d appeared.

_ How does he know my name -  _

“Ah, yes, and Ivar De Zwarte. Sycamore, dragon heartstring, 11’’, Swishy.” Her father nodded, unsurprised. Nova on the other hand, was confused. 

“You went to Hogwarts, Papa?” She was ignored. Nova tried not to huff. She was quickly distracted, however, by the whirlwind wandmaker called Ollivander and he invaded her personal space.

“Wand arm?” 

“Right,” Nova answered as she curiously watched the measuring tape curl around her. Ollivander was bustling about his rows of wands before he picked one out and placed a wand in her hand. Before she could even close her palm, it was snatched away. 

“No, no, not quite… Ah, try this one!”

Nova tried to wave it randomly, but nothing happened. “Hm, not the right one then...Let’s see…”

And so it went on.

Nova had been standing in the same place for over half an hour before they made a breakthrough. Until then, she’d been worried she had no magic whatsoever as there was no reaction from any wand she’d been given. 

“Willow, dragon heartstring, 9’’, Whippy.” The moment the wand had been placed in her hand, fire spewed out of it and it burned in her hand. Nova yelped and quickly let go. Ollivander snatched it out of the air with a delighted cackle.

“Oh, yes, yes, yes! We’re getting somewhere!” Nova didn’t know whether to be horrified that she almost burnt the shop down or relieved she actually had magic. She glanced back at her father to see him trying to hold back his laughter.

Hmph.

“Willow, unicorn hair, 11’’, Rigid.” The windows shattered.

“Willow, unicorn hair, 15’’, Fairly Bendy.” A desk cracked and shuddered threateningly.

“Willow, dragon heartstring, 13’’, Quite Bendy.” A shelf fell down, right after all but imploding.

“Hmm…I wonder. Yes, perhaps.” Ollivander seemed to be trying to pick apart her soul with the way he stared at her. “It may be completely wrong but…” He disappeared behind his shelves again, returning with a box just like any of the others. 

“Willow, phoenix feather core, 11  1 / 2 ’’, Quite bendy.” Ollivander gently picked up the wand inside the box. “This is one of the few wands I’ve created with a combination of such rare materials. It has great potential, yes...exceptionally adaptable, but stubborn as well.”

Ollivander handed her the wand, and a warmth rushed through her. Nova was transfixed, hadn’t even bothered to wave the wand yet, when a sharp inhale snapped her out of her reverie. 

Nova was  _ glowing. _

Suddenly her father burst out laughing. “A-ahaha, n-n-ow I’m d-d-definitely sure we named you right!” He gasped out in between chuckles. “My daughter’s actually turning into a Supernova!” He cackled. Nova pouted. She liked her name, but she didn’t want to suffer through the teasing that would undoubtedly come. The young girl already struggled through enough, being named after a glowing, exploding star. Now that she’d  _ actually glowed _ , well.

She sulked all the way home, then sulked some more when she heard her mother’s hyena-like laugh echoing in the hallway. 

(Okay, maybe she was exaggerating, but  _ still.) _

————————

The months leading up to her departure to Hogwarts were filled with keeping up with Muggle school and making plans for how she’d not lose all contact with that world (oh god the extra reading and studying she’d have to do…). Nova also spent that time reading her school books (as much as she could, some of them were kind of dull, honestly) and the extra ones she’d gotten. 

She discovered that there was a war that ended about a decade ago (definitely important to know that saying “Voldemort” would cause mass panic) and that it had been resolved due to a 1 year old baby (hah, very likely).

Naturally, she asked her parents about it and discovered her father had been sent here by the ICW to patch some people up. Maybe it was selfish of her, but  _ thank god  _ her father worked as a Healer internationally and therefore had some immunity and had stayed away for the worst of it). From what he’d told her, which wasn’t that much, the government hadn’t been in the best state in the aftermath. Some people had been sent to jail  _ without a trial _ . Her mother had been worried, left behind to wait in Barbados with a baby and a toddler. 

Nova also discovered that if her maths were correct, and Harry Potter would be going to Hogwarts, they’d be in the same year. Along with heirs to big-shot families in the UK. 

Poor boy. It was a pretty big boarding school and Nova had no doubt whatsoever that most of them would have grown up on those silly books she’d seen in the bookstore... _ Harry Potter and the Hippogriff _ , was it?

Then again, maybe Potter grew up all fish and entitled, and would be arrogant beyond belief. Who could know. 

Nova decided not to dwell on it. She knew there were more important things out there than fawning over a boy that could not have  _ possibly _ killed a Dark Lord as a baby.

Nova was rather bored, really. Both her parents were out during the day. There was a park nearby but having lived in not so safe countries, Nova was wary of going out on her own. She was safe inside because her parents had put up basic wards of protection (a habit they’d developed) and they were only a floo-call away. She wasn’t quite in the mood to read and her father was allergic to animal fur so she wasn’t allowed to have a pet to entertain herself with and have company. Her brother was still in his boarding school in France, and she wanted to procrastinate on the homework she knew was due tomorrow,

Ahahaha. Ha. Anyway…

Nova decided to do some art. She liked drawing, and she’d received a sketchbook and a set of HB, 2B, 4B, 6B, and 8B pencils to work with. But what to draw?

By the time her parents had come home, Nova was hunched over her sketchbook and half-way through a drawing of the scenery from their balcony.

  
  


During the weekends, Nova convinced her parents to help her with some magic. Her father was great at Potions and taught her some little tricks that may enhance the potion/better the brewing. Her mother was better at Charms and Transfiguration, and despite being very strict and not letting her use her wand, taught Nova that you couldn’t force your magic and expect something to happen. There are many aspects to transfiguration that must be taken into account - visualisation, mass, composition, material. You don’t have to know the details (only someone with an eidetic memory would be able to memorize all the elements and densities and whatever), but the fundamental understanding is important to make the transition.

It was interesting, to say the least. Nova was a quick study, but it was mostly due to her endless curiosity and her impressive ability to concentrate (in comparison to most children her age). Despite being...not-so-motivated (cough,  _ lazy _ ) at home, Nova put her all when she was in class. And she wants it on record that even if she procrastinates, she always hands in her homework.  _ Always _ . Even if she does it in the car before it’s due on the way to school, it still gets done.

Hmph.

(Everyone has their faults, okay?)

————————

The (dreaded) day had arrived. Her parents drove her to Kings Cross Station (to make it last longer) and accompanied her through the wall-portal-thing onto platform 9 3 / 4 . The Hogwarts Express stood proud and bright red behind a thickening crowd of wizards and witches.

Nova’s stomach roiled with nerves that had steadily been increasing since she woke up this morning. It was a nauseating mixture of excitement and anxiousness that certainly did not go well. 

On one hand, she was finally going to learn how to do magic. Which was  _ amazing  _ and Nova really couldn’t wait to get started. On the other...Hogwarts was a big place, and she knew no one. Despite knowing and understanding that she wouldn’t be the only one in an unfamiliar place with no familiar faces, something told her that with the exception of muggleborns, most - if not all - of the half-bloods and purebloods would know  _ someone _ and have  _ some kind of _ support system. Whether it’s siblings or childhood friends that perhaps aren’t in the same year as them - the point is that they have someone. 

Nova _would’ve_ had someone if her parents had sent her to _Beauxbatons_. Part of Nova finally understood why it was so hard to adapt to the wizarding world for some muggleborns. Objectively, she’d always known why - it was kind of obvious. But it was different when you were actually in their situation - or somewhat, at least (Nova had still grown up with magic - she was used to it and had less to learn about the wizarding world than they did).

Nova was a stubborn girl and she held onto her irritation at not being with her brother by saying a quick, curt goodbye and disappearing into the Hogwarts Express and quickly as she could to find a lone compartment where she could sulk. 

“Bye. See you during the Christmas break.” With a quick hug from both of her parents (and what a struggle it was to escape her mother’s clutches), Nova marched into the train. Luckily her trunk was spelled to be featherweight so she didn’t have to awkwardly hobble it along. 

Finding an empty compartment was surprisingly quick, though Nova suspected it was due to families trying to hold on to their children as long as possible, making the crowd bigger and the number of students inside the train smaller. It could also partly be her own mother’s intolerance for tardiness that often caused her to be early by a big enough margin. Nova breathed a sigh of relief at not having to ask if she could join someone in their compartment. 

The young witch pulled out a book from her trunk and tucked herself into the corner of her compartment as she began to read to pass the time. Before she knew it, it was almost time for departure and students were flitting by her compartment door as they tried to find their friends. A knock disturbed her reading and Nova looked up, surprised at the interruption. A red-haired girl and a paid-tailed bloned waved at her shyly. 

“Hi, I’m Susan Bones. I’m a first year. Do you mind if we share the compartment with you?” The redhead asked politely. The blonde next to her piped up before Nova could answer. “Hannah Abbott, also first year.”

“Sure, go ahead. I’m Nova Clarence, and I’m also a first year. Nice to meet you.” Nova answered, hoping she didn’t sound as awkward as she felt. 

“Thanks!” The two girls chirped happily. Susan eyed her curiously before asking, “Where are you from? Your accent’s slightly different that what we usually hear around here.”

Nova smiled at them before replying, “I’m English from my mother’s side but my father’s Belgian. He’s also a Healer for the ICW so we’ve travelled a lot. I guess my accent changed somewhere during the country-hopping we did.” Nova laughed awkwardly before adding sheepishly, “I’ve never actually lived here.”

Hannah brightened at the mention of her dad being a Healer. “Wow, that’s amazing! Healers are incredible, I want to be one when I grow up.” 

Nova grinned at her, “Me too, actually! It’s also great to watch, you know. Seeing someone’s face the day after they’ve taken Skele-grow and can walk again…”

Both girls sighed dreamily while Susan watched and giggled. 

“Where have you lived so far?” This time the question came from Hannah.

“Erm...I’ve lived in Bolivia, but I was so young I don’t really remember it. Then we moved to Ethiopia, then to the Caribbean and finally Peru before we arrived here. Pretty crazy, huh?” Nova laughed at their gawking. This she was familiar with.

The conversation slowly steered towards Hogwarts after that.

“So what are you looking forward to the most?” The redhead asked excitedly. 

Hannah frowned in thought, “I’ve heard Charms is great and the Professor’s very funny. Oh! And the food’s supposed to be rather good…”

Susan nodded before wrinkling her nose, “Yeah, but I’m not looking forward to Potions - ugh, I heard Snape is the worst.”

“So have I! Surely he’s not that bad?”

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see?”

Nova’s posture slumped and she winced internally as the girls started chatting amongst themselves. This is what she’d been afraid of. Hannah and Susan clearly knew each other, and by the looks of it they were good friends. Nova, the outsider who was also British but really wasn’t at the same time, was being left on the sidelines already. 

And she’d been doing so well up till now. 

Insecurities started to whirl around her head as she told the girls she’d had an early morning and was going to nap a little. It was  _ baseless _ , she knew, but Nova had a deep-rooted insecurity that came with being ‘British-but-not’. A minor identity crisis, if you will, with never  _ actually  _ fitting in. She’d lived in all these countries and she’d learned their history and culture, and yet when it came to her  _ own _ country - she knew little of its history other than the widely known - such as World Wars One and Two, the slightest bit about the Industrial Revolution and the Victorian Era. But other than that - not much more at all. Even the people from England could hardly believe she was one of them - not with how  _ unusual  _ her  _ accent  _ was. It was the same with Belgium. Perhaps she spoke some Dutch, as the De Zwarten were from the Flemish-speaking part of Belgium, but even so she made ‘foreigner mistakes’ in her grammar, and being Belgian was also speaking  _ both  _ French and Dutch. Nova personally thought it was wonderful that she belonged to a bilingual country, but if she couldn’t speak those languages properly, does she even qualify to be ‘Belgian’?

Yes, maybe she was too strict on herself and she put her standards for fluency at the level her English - the language she’d always been schooled in - was at. And they  _ were _ high standards. But Nova couldn’t help the way she felt, she couldn’t help the inadequacy or the shame that came with speaking Dutch and knowing she’d make ‘foreigner errors’ at  _ some point  _ in her sentence. Sometimes Nova would even look at people in the eye - notice their blue, grey, green,  _ light _ eyes and think, behind her  _ brown _ eyes;  _ I don’t belong here. I’m not one of you. _ Of course there were no standards for what someone from a certain nationality looked like - not anymore. Nova also knew it was silly to think such a thing as one’s phenotype did not define who or what someone was. But at the back of her mind it lingered, another subconscious reminder of how she did not belong. 

Nova tried to push these thoughts away.

The rest of the trip went by with relative silence from Nova’s part. Occasionally she’d ask a question and one of the girls would answer. When the trolley-lady came by, she brought a few sweets and shared them with the other girls. They did the same, so Nova didn’t want to appear selfish (she was a sucker for chocolate and...could have possessive feelings and be tempted to hoard it).

At one point a bossy, bushy-haired girl stormed into their compartment with a short and round dark-blond-haired boy cowering behind her. She introduced herself and Hermione Granger and introduced the body behind her as Neville Longbottom before demanding to know if they’d seen a toad called Trevor. There was a moment of stunned silence (Nova was impressed with this girl’s character, but not-so-impressed with her bossiness) and as neither Susan nor Hannah appeared to be shaking off their shell-shocked state, Nova replied instead. 

“Why don’t you ask a Prefect for help? It’s almost time to get changed into uniform, anyway. They might be able to summon - Trevor, was it? - for you.” 

Hermione  _ actually hit herself _ and started muttering something about being an idiot or whatever. She left without a thank you, probably too distracted berating herself. Neville squeaked out a thank-you-very-much and stumbled after her hastily.

Well. Nova raised an incredulous brow. She shared a wide-eyed look with Susan as Hannah picked her jaw up from the floor.

“Should we get changed?” Susan suggested. Nova nodded slowly.

————————

Honestly, wizards and witches were so predictable sometimes. A special boat ride to see the castle in all its glory right off the bat and start a bias in young, impressionable minds from the very beginning? 

Hmph.

But Hogwarts was truly magnificent. Unfortunately for the manipulative bastard(s?) behind creating this hero-worship and infallible image of Hogwarts, Nova was good at analysing the implications of certain actions. Or maybe she was just too critical sometimes.

Anyway, it was...magical. Even to the  _ magical people _ , Hogwarts was on another level. Nova had also been exposed to enough cultures for long enough to become hyper-aware of the ambiance magic (it changed from place to place) and Hogwarts was  _ sentient _ . 

That’s a whole other level of magic.

How did this happen? Were the founders so magically powerful that they managed to turn a collection of inanimate objects into something with impressions, feelings, moods? Did the castle simply  _ evolve _ from being exposed to so much magic and so consistently? But the implications of this were  _ groundbreaking _ . 

Whatever resentment Nova had held inside her heart for her parents having sent her here vanished into a whisper of the wind. Maybe her father had just wanted to experience what he’d once experienced, all the wonders and beauties of it. 

Nova was in a trance-like state as she watched the ghosts fly by - she’d seen many of those by now, and no ghosts could impress her as much as the kings and witch-doctors of African tribes or the priests of the Incas or the ghosts of haunted slaves of the Caribbean or the infinitely wise Native American chiefs.

But she could feel the castle’s magic pulsing around her -  _ all around her _ , encompassing her. It was in the shifting staircases and the moving paintings and the stone statues of knights that she could’ve  _ sworn  _ winked at her.

By the time their group had arrived at the Great Hall and McGonnagal was making her speech, Nova had a smile so wide on her face it hurt her cheeks. 

The sorting began and Nova faintly noted Susan and Hannah being sorted into Hufflepuff. When Professor McGonnagal called her name, “Clarence De Zwarte, Nova.” The eleven-year old girl calmly made her way up the steps to sit on the stool. Before the Transfiguration teacher could place the hat on her head, Nova told McGonnagal quietly but with a small smile, “You may just call me Clarence, Professor. Clarence De Zwarte is a bit of a mouthful, isn’t it?”

With a nod and the drop of her hand, the Sorting Hat slipped over her eyes and her vision went dark. 

**Author's Note:**

> -Please let you know if you find any typos or mistakes, I don’t have a beta and I might’ve missed something while revising it.
> 
> -Nova’s parents’ names:  
> Monelle Clarence (she kept her maiden name, you go girl)  
> Ivar De Zwarte
> 
> -On Nova’s appearance:  
> It’s up to the reader if she’s a POC (person of colour). If you want her to be, then she is , if you don’t particularly care, then that’s fine to. It’s up to interpretation.  
> Brown eyes tho. And her hair will be introduced later on lol
> 
> -Information about Nova’s wand and what it means:
> 
> “Willow is an uncommon wand wood with healing power, and I have noted that the ideal owner for a willow wand often has some (usually unwarranted) insecurity, however well they may try and hide it. While many confident customers insist on trying a willow wand (attracted by their handsome appearance and well-founded reputation for enabling advanced, non-verbal magic) my willow wands have consistently selected those of greatest potential, rather than those who feel they have little to learn. It has always been a proverb in my family that he who has furthest to travel will go fastest with willow.” 
> 
> “This is the rarest core type. Phoenix feathers are capable of the greatest range of magic, though they may take longer than either unicorn or dragon cores to reveal this. They show the most initiative, sometimes acting of their own accord, a quality that many witches and wizards dislike.  
> Phoenix feather wands are always the pickiest when it comes to potential owners, for the creature from which they are taken is one of the most independent and detached in the world. These wands are the hardest to tame and to personalise, and their allegiance is usually hard won.”
> 
> “Wand flexibility or rigidity denotes the degree of adaptability and willingness to change possessed by the wand-and-owner pair.” 
> 
> All this information is taken from wizardingworld.com


End file.
